


Tell Me, Do You Feel Lonely?

by Asahi_9L1314



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 2020 Emilia Romagna GP, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28546416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asahi_9L1314/pseuds/Asahi_9L1314
Summary: Does anybody really care for me?I don’t know, I hope soWould anybody be there for me?Or am I on my ownI don’t wanna let it get me downAnd I hope it turns this thing aroundTell me, do you ever feel lonely?
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Kevin Magnussen
Kudos: 17





	Tell Me, Do You Feel Lonely?

“OK, Kevin, we will box now, let’s box for retirement. We are P18, we will box now.” 

As car No.20’s engineer, Gary communicates the team’s decision over the radio, feeling relief but at the same time, very sad and frustrated. 

“You’ve done a good job staying out”, he wants to say more, because the Dane deserves more, but fails to find the right words, “……box now for retirement.” 

It is just overall frustrating and there is nothing he can say to help make the situation better besides bringing the driver out of the torture.

On the other side of the radio, it is long silence from the cockpit before the channel is activated again.

“……Copy that.”

Kevin is not very sure how he drives back to the pit lane. The migraine has become so severe that his head feels like exploding at any second. Everything hurts, even the engine sounds that he has been so accustomed to all these years are like needles piercing through his brain. 

As soon as he stops the car and gets pushed back inside the garage, he let out a deep breath that he doesn’t know how long he has been holding and finally closes his eyes. 

It has been too painful. But the sudden stop from high-speed motions only seems to make the nausea symptoms more obvious. 

He wants to stay strong, at least until he gets to hide back in his own room, but the headache is just too much, and he can only stay still in order to muster some strength to get out of the car.

The air in his side of the garage is thickening upon seeing his current condition. His mechanics are climbing onto the car to remove the block and release his seatbelt as fast as they can.

How pathetic he must look like……? Kevin snorts to himself.

How pathetic he is right now. How pathetic everything has become. 

A sense of anger is boiling in his chest, and all the frustration that has been simmering inside in the past few weeks, months, seem to finally find the crack to burst out when his will power is at its lowest point. 

But……what or who he can or should be angry at? He doesn’t even have the answer.

He sits up and uses all the strength he has left to hop out of the cockpit. The sudden movement causes a new wave of sharp headache, he has to hold onto the halo to steady himself. His first mechanic reaches out trying to hold him, but he just put a hand up to refuse all the help from the team and walks out as fast as he can before anyone can say a word.

He can’t afford to be this weak and pathetic in front of his team and all the media right now. He just wants to be alone. 

He rips his helmet off and walks towards his motor home, but something is coming up from his stomach, and before he can reach his room, he has to run to the grass on the side and starts vomiting. 

The No.20 helmet is now discarded on the ground, just like his first-ever race at this historical track, discard in the dust. And probably, his last ever as well. 

He puts a hand on the sidewall to support himself, the other press hard to his temple hoping to suppress the pain. There is not much that actually comes out but the force to throw everything out of his system is strong. It’s just like all the emotions that he has been bottling up inside are forcing their way out of his body.

Everything hurts. Everything is painful. 

He doesn’t even realize his friend and manager Jesper has come next to him until he feels a hand gently patting on his back, “……Painkillers?”

Kevin nods, doesn’t have the energy to reply. 

Having been knowing Kevin for so long and his preference for privacy at moments like this, Jesper carefully picks up the red helmet, pats the dust off the lid, and just walks away with a silent sigh. At the end of the day, there is not much he can do at this moment.

Kevin waits until the footsteps get far enough to finally turn around and sits down on the grass against the wall. 

The race is still going on, all the motions and competitions are still loud and clear from the track just on the other side of the garage, he can still hear all the communication between the engineers and the pit crew. It is so close, but at the same time, feels so far away and out of reach. 

When did everything start to go wrong? He can’t help but question himself.

From their motor house, he can easily look straight to the starting point of the whole paddock, where the dominating teams have been occupying since he first joined F1. 

He used to have a place there. But he quickly snorts at that - what a useless thought. 

There was a time, teams and the sport were very excited about him, media even put him in comparison with Lewis. He was the hero of his country. 

But things just shattered in a blink, and before he could have a hold of the situation, he was caught between the management politics, demoted, dropped to smaller teams with underdeveloped cars. And now, he is sitting on the other side of the paddock, barely finished half of the races in the season. 

And he has no more contract for next year. 

He blinks a few times before his eyes get too painful under the sunlight. 

Well, it is just musical chair, isn’t it, as Nico once put it. At the end of the day, F1 is a complicated game he dares to play then, and he dares to lose now - losing his chair when the music comes to an end. 

It is what it is, right? Just like how he keeps telling the media, and himself. 

Just when he was deep in his own thought, from the corner of his eyes, a dark gray spot moving in the middle of the paddock catches his attention. He turns to have a better look and immediately recognizes it’s that Imola cat who interrupted Sebastian’s interview on Thursday. 

The cat seems to sense the attention too and turns to face Kevin’s direction, and then gradually and hesitantly, starts to walk towards him.

To be honest, Kevin is more of a dog person, but at that moment, he feels something about this lone ranger. He rests his chin on his knees, just patiently watching this cautious little creature getting closer.

“……What?”, he chuckles and starts to talk towards the cat in a quiet tone when the cat gets into his reachable distance, “What are you looking at?” 

The cat doesn’t even give him reactions, just carefully gets close to his racing boots, seems more curious about his shoelace than him. Kevin weakly smiles to himself, and for some indescribable reasons, feels very defeated. 

“……even you don’t give a fuck about me”, he slowly reaches out a hand trying to pat the cat on the back. But before his fingers can get close enough, the cat immediately glares at him with alerts and runs away. 

Kevin watches the cat disappearing into the end of the paddock, slowly buries his head into his knees and closes his eyes. His head is still throbbing, another wave of headache overtakes all his senses.

The team decides to let him do the interviews after the whole race ended. He stands outside the interview zone with their PR officer waiting for his turn to get questions. The painkiller Jesper gave him is slowly kicking in, but the chilly wind is not making things any easier. 

He looks at one side of the zone where Esteban, Max, Lewis, Sebastian, Valterri, and Checo are together congratulating Daniel’s podium, and on the other side, some of the youngsters and Romain are comforting George and Pierre on their unfortunate DNFs. 

He unconsciously starts biting his lips - he knows he still has 4 races to go, and he knows, unlike the public thinks, he is good friends with a bunch of drivers on the grid, but at this very moment, he somehow just feels like a complete outsider.

And in the middle of the media zone, it’s the Ferrari driver that every media wants to have a word with. The young driver who once again overachieved his car is talking to an Italian media with an obvious amount of excitement. 

To be honest, being in a team that has been directly impacted by all the Ferrari problems, Kevin has more than enough first-hand knowledge on how difficult the SF1000 probably is to control, so he does understand Seb’s struggles, but which also makes the Monégasque’s result even more incredible.

He is indeed the pop star of the new generation, isn’t he? The prince of Monaco. 

Kevin is, of course, very very happy for and proud of Charles. But at the bottom of his heart, he also can’t deny there is a tiny bit of bitterness and insecurity…….for whatever crazy reasons.

And the Monégasque just has to lock eyes with him at this very moment. 

The younger driver seems to notice him between questions and sends over a concerning look. But before he can get any response, Kevin already turned away to avoid eye contact. 

He is not ready to face Charles right now. 

Luckily, Lawrence is waving for his turn. He immediately walks towards the spot next to Charles’ and tries his best to ignore the warm squeeze on his wrist when he passes by the Ferrari driver. 

Well, Charles Leclerc might be his boyfriend (and he knows how unlikely that sounds), but he doesn’t need anyone’s empathy to look even more pathetic right now. 

He doesn’t need anyone to feel sorry for him, he doesn’t. 

Takes in a deep breath, Kevin switches back to his professional racer mode and gets ready to put on some smile for the camera. 

It is just what it is.

After a few interviews and a short debrief session, Kevin finally is able to get back to the hotel and buries himself in bed to wait for the remaining headache to die down.  
……until someone comes to knock on his door when he almost falls into sleep.

He blinks a few times, not sure if he just hallucinates the knock or not, then gives out a whimper of protest before reluctantly forcing himself to get the door. 

The light from the hallway makes him immediately squints his eyes, but the person standing outside is so familiar that he can recognize him even just from a glimpse of the silhouette.

“……how are you feeling?” 

Charles, still dresses in his team polo, closes the door behind and asks quietly, lowers his volume on purpose.

Kevin walks back to the bed and rests against the headboard, “Bearable? There’s not much I can do about it now……”, well, there is nothing he can do about anything in his life right now basically. 

He closes his eyes, realizes he sound much more exhausted than he wants to show, “Why are you here anyway? I thought we were not supposed to be in the same bubble……”

Kevin almost immediately regrets what he just said as soon as the words left his mouth. Man, he sounds like a grumpy sour loser who tries to blame everyone for everything. 

But Charles doesn’t deserve any of this anger and frustration, he knows, and if any, Charles deserves congrats and praise instead, for his great work in the car and…

……and his tenderness to visit his grumpy loser boyfriend. 

Guilty slowly builds up in Kevin’s stomach, and the long silence from the other person makes him grab his fists tight with merging anxiety. 

A heavy sigh comes out from Charles, but before he can get more anxious, the said person just leans forward, and then an ice pack is put onto his forehead. 

“Just wanna bring you this, Andrea said it should help”, Charles replies in a soft voice, doesn’t sound angry or annoyed, “and don’t be silly, of course I will be here.” 

Kevin puts a hand on the ice pack to hold it in place, trying to muster up some courage for a properer conversation with his boyfriend. He will not admit - but also can’t deny - the fact that the simple sentence from the younger just hits a tender spot in his heart. 

He knows he owned Charles an explanation. They actually haven’t been able to spend proper time together for almost 3 weeks now, well, partially blame Covid, but also partially it was on him.

Since he got the call from Guenther, he has been avoiding Charles for some unknown reasons. To be honest, he already kind of knew the bad news was coming - hell, it was already a miracle Haas could pull off the 2020 season with their financial situations - and he thought, he really thought, he was ready to take the hit, except the fact that he wasn’t, actually. 

The amount of frustration, sorrow, and tiredness poured in his chest was so unexpected and overwhelming, and he just couldn’t find the courage to share the news with Charles, who already had a lot of his own problems in his hands. 

Then the announcement came out last week, and he completely missed the chance to tell Charles about it. Charles had to learn this huge update about his own boyfriend from the news, just like everyone else. 

Kevin sits up, struggling to find a better way to say something, anything - he feels bad but he is also exhausted and doesn’t know what to do - but Charles just leans in and brushes a quick kiss on his forehead, effectively stops him from saying anything. 

“You just stay right here, okay? I will take care of the rest.” He whispers against Kevin’s temple, tone soft but firm. 

……What the rest? 

Kevin watches Charles walking around in his room and packing his stuff, has zero clues of what is going on, “……Why are you packing? The team had changed my flight to tomorrow……”

“The flight leaves in an hour,” Charles replies matter-of-factly without slowing down his work.

Kevin frowns with even more confusion, “……back to London?” 

Charles grabs the last shirt from the closet and zips up the carry-on, finishes packing as fast as he can, “…… to Monaco.” 

Before he can actually do anything to protest, Kevin was shoved in Charles’s Ferrari and off to the airport. 

There is only music filling in the car, no explanation coming from the younger one. Kevin looks at the Monégasque who has his eyes fixed on the road for a while, suddenly feels pointless to ask any questions anymore.

His headache is coming back, exhaustion settles in his bone, but he finds it weirdly comforting to be just simply striped in a passage seat this time, not needing to fight behind a steering wheel like his life depends on it - something that he has been forced to do since his first-ever race.

Charles said he would take care of the rest…… right?

Kevin turns his gaze to the side window, slowly closes his eyes with a silent sigh, and thinks, maybe he can finally have his first proper rest in the past few weeks.

The next time Kevin fully awakes, they are already in front of Charles’s apartment building. The door of his side is opened and the younger one is leaning down to unbuckle his seatbelt. 

“Did I wake you up?” 

Kevin blinks at the mop of brown soft in front of him, has to take a few seconds to fully process what happened. 

“……I slept through the whole thing?” He feels a bit embarrassed.

Charles reaches out his hand to push a few loose strands off Kevin’s forehead and beams, “Yup, like a giant baby. Thank god you are so much lighter than the required weight now after all these triple-headers, or I might have broken my back.” 

Kevin flicks Charles on the nose but smile along, “Fuck off, _you_ are the baby here.” 

And Charles just steps backward and exaggeratedly flips on the floor with a hand on his nose, “Man down! Man down!” 

He looks at the fully-grown man laying on the floor, can’t help but chuckles softly. He knows Charles is just being funny to lighten up the atmosphere. And it always works. 

After putting down the luggage in the bedroom and throw all the dirty clothes into the laundry, Charles grabs Kevin’s shoulder and pushes him into the bathroom.

“You just take the bath, ok? I will fix us some dinner.” 

Kevin turns around tries to protest, “I haven’t even got my change clothes yet.” 

He knows it is his weird instinct that is working up again, the instinct where he tends to act tough and refuse extra care and help. But Charles just closes the door as fast as possible before Kevin can protest more, “I will get them for you!”

“And… what about my underwear!?” 

There is just silence from the other side, apparently, the younger one already walked away, and only a few seconds later, came an answer with a tiny bit of hesitation and tease, “……Maybe we don’t need it?”

This kid.

Kevin huffs out a sigh with amusement while shaking his head, and then turns his focus back on the mirror in front of him before proceeding to take off his clothes. 

He is still wearing his Haas polo shirt under the windbreaker. The feeling of having a uniform and an F1 team logo on it slowly nudges him again from the inside. 

Took in a deep breath before taking off the shirt in one go, he kicks off his jeans and socks, naked form gradually reveals in the mirror. 

He has been trying hard, so hard, all these years, and he once thought, he finally earned something tangible in his hands. But look at him, the real him. Did he really have anything? 

A lump stuck in his throat and that sense of insecurity emerges from deep down, Kevin has to dip himself in the warm water in the tub before all the non-sense takes over. 

And he almost loses track of time like that, letting the warmth slowly calm his nerve, until the reality suddenly hits again. 

Wait… did Charles say he will make dinner?!

The alarm ringing in his head pushes Kevin to jump out of the bath immediately. 

Ok, to be fair, Kevin is definitely not a good cook whatsoever, but Charles, THE Charles Leclerc, processes the magic that could burn down his own kitchen. 

Especially when he tries hard to impress. 

He puts on the oversize T-shirt and soft sweatpants the younger one prepared for him - may or may not skip the underwear part, no comments - and hurries out to the hallway to peak at the kitchen……

And the said Monégasque is just pouring the cooked pasta into the saucepan with ease, seemingly knows what he is doing. 

Well, maybe he is overthinking again……?

A sudden bump from the back almost makes Charles flick the pan in his hand. What the heck? 

But before he can turn around to look, a familiar warmth and the scent of his own shampoo reach him from behind, and he can feel someone’s head is resting just above his shoulder blades. 

“You almost destroy our dinner’, he simply says, without actual accusation.

“I thought you would order take-out or stuff?” Kevin’s voice sounds a bit muffled in the T-shirt.

Charles shrugs, pretends to be offended, “What’s wrong with my……” 

“Cream sauce pasta with chicken.” Kevin finishes the sentence before Charles can even pronounce “cream”. 

Charles rolls his eyes at the tease in Kevin’s tone, “This is proven fine-tuned art with numerous practice. I thought you liked it too??” 

Of course it is fine-tuned, being the only decent dish Charles can make over and over again. 

And yes, Kevin likes it, not only because it surprisingly tastes pretty good, but more because someone actually spent efforts to make it just for him. 

But Charles definitely doesn’t need to know that.

“We didn’t end up in the restroom for the rest of the night last time, so I don’t hate it”, Kevin answers while hiding a small smile on the cotton, warmth breath spread through the soft layer to Charles’s skin. 

Charles hums as a reply but not actually buying it. Then they just fall back to a comfortable silence, until Charles moves to the left to pour the completed dish onto the plates. 

“You know, I am really happy for you”, _on the race results_ , Kevin quietly says, “You outperformed the car again.” 

Charles just holds the pan to let the last bit of sauce drip onto the pasta, taking his time to respond, “I guess we are all fighting in our own battles, aren’t we? Just try to get the best out of what we have.”

“Yeah……”, Kevin nods against his back, _but just that… I am probably fighting a losing battle_. 

“And you know what?” Charles suddenly puts down the pan, pretended to be angry and annoyed, “Someone in that Haas made such a hard time for me to overtake him. That was not right, I was in a Ferrari!”

That fake dramatic tone actually makes Kevin laugh out loud, head throwing back. He knows Charles just tries to make him happy but jokes along nonetheless, “Told you, the SF1000 is a red Haas.” 

Charles laughs too, he and Seb have been secretly having fun reading all these memes. Not everything about Ferrari on the track has to be serious, right?

“But still, you raced me so hard!” He throws another punchline. 

Kevin immediately laughs again, his whole body is shaking against Charles.

“I have to tell Alex about this one at Turkish, your twitch squad might disband, watch out.”

Charles chuckles along, but immediately apologizes to the air, “I am so sorry Alex, but it was for the greater good.” 

And they both start to laugh again.

When they finally come down from the high, Kevin finally turns away from hiding behind Charles and walks to the drawer for utensils, while Charles is setting up the coffee table so that they can eat while watching something fun. 

They didn’t actually talk about anything, but Kevin is feeling less tense already compare to before. 

After dinner, Kevin volunteers to put all the used dishes and pans into the dishwasher before rejoining Charles on the couch. 

Charles has promised to play Fortnite with Pierre and Lewis tonight, and Kevin stops him from canceling it. He doesn’t want the younger one to change any of his schedules for him. 

He doesn’t like to be a burden. 

He flops down on the couch and slowly hesitantly put his head onto Charles’ left thigh while Charles is choosing the banana man as his character again for fun. 

And he can tell Charle’s pitching laugh is cut short when the younger one feels warm dropped onto his thigh. 

It is definitely not a common thing Kevin Magnussen will do. Hell, it is probably the first time since they started their actual dating.

But Charles knows better and chooses to act normal - as normal as he can manage to - and just continues the game without having a look or making any comments.

And Kevin, who is actually holding his breath and ready to jump up at any second if Charles makes any cheesy comments, just gradually gets more and more comfortable, more and more relax with the background noise and Charles’s overly exciting convo with Pierre and Lewis. 

If you asked him a year ago, he would never believe that things as simple and silly as cream sauce pasta, fresh clean clothes, stupid F1 memes, and random banana man character could ground him so much. 

Maybe Charles Leclerc really has magic, the magic that can melt all his frustration, all his hard feelings away, and, well, and inevitably make you a cheesy person just like him. 

“……I actually kind of like this, you know”, Charles says quietly with his soft accent when they lose another round of the game and decide to take a break. 

Kevin snorts, “What? Me being unemployed?” 

“Wha, what?” Charles almost chocks on his saliva, “Nooooo! I mean……”, he stops himself briefly before he can find the right words, “I mean, you showing you are upset, and, and vulnerable, instead of being like you are tough and you can handle everything.” 

Charles keeps his eyes staring straight at the game instead of looking at Kevin, and continues, “You are older, so much more mature and experienced. Sometimes I just feel like……you don’t actually need me, you know?”

“So, thank you for letting me barge in, and, showing me your hidden side.” 

Kevin slightly parts his lips, almost forgets to breathe. 

Charles’s unexpected words literally got him on the spot. They make him feel so naked but at the same time, so covered and protected. 

He just looks at the younger one, completely lose words.

And Charles just starts to chuckles softly at the completely silenced Kevin, and turns his gaze from the TV screen to the person laying on him, looks straight into Kevin’s eyes with all the sincerity and a bit of embarrassment, “What? What are you looking at?”

The exact same line that he himself just used to the Imola cat earlier today makes Kevin brush hard. He turns away from the gaze and buries his face into Charles’s T-shirt. 

“Fuck off!” He replies grumpily, but also decides to allow Charles to pat on his back with his large warm hand just like patting a cat, only for this time. 

Just this one time!

“……I will be fine.”

After a brief silence, Kevin finally speaks up again, quietly but firmly. 

“Maybe not now, but I will.” 

And the other person just smoothes his paw on Kevin’s lower back, spreading the assuring warmth, and nods.

“I know. We will all be fine, eventually.”

"......and did I say Thank you?" 

Charles just laughs before replies in a sing-song way.

"Pas de problème, mon amour." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)  
> It's been a long time since I last posted anything... The 2020 season has been a bit hard for me to process with all the changes and departures and Romain's crash  
> This piece has been sitting on my computer for a while before I finally got to finish it.  
> It should be a later installment of the Alt Er Kjærlighet series, but I will leave it solo for now until the series catches up the timeline lol
> 
> Anyways, thanks again! And hope you like it~


End file.
